So my delightful, darling (spoiled) geese have resorted to chasing old ladies down the street! It happened early this morning while I was in my office attempting to polish a few essays before the distractions of the day took over. Instead of writing, I was (painfully) running up and down the gravel driveway in my bare feet, retrieving the naughty puppy who kept practicing her Houdini act and escaping the yard. I enlisted all the tricks of discipline (she gave multiple opportunities so I could try every one) and with each scolding, her sweet little honey-bear face would convince me we had an understanding. Her understanding usually lasted long enough for me to trek back up the hill, sit down at the computer and look out the window in time to catch her disappearing through the fence again. I finally gave up trying to write and donned my muck boots in order to be close enough to catch her and hopefully accomplish some training. I sure wasn’t accomplishing anything else.
PC Abigail Leigh
This withering swiss chard is the sole survivor of TWO winter gardens planted and drenched in delirious hope. Cheerfully chatting with my children and house mates two months ago as we sowed hundreds of collard, kale, cabbage, broccoli, spinach and cauliflower seeds, we recollected the three failed plantings of the spring and summer and spoke words of life over this new season. We even rain danced down the rows. OK- not really. But I considered it. Within two weeks, thanks to a continuing drought combined with my broken irrigation system and three escapee chickens who determinedly scratched up all the freshly sown soil, we were back to scorched clay and dust. And grasshoppers.
100 packets of seeds. I tried to stay calm and conservative. I really did try…….